


The Adventures of Spider-Guy and His Dorky Boyfriend

by howboutinotdothis



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: M/M, Probably ooc, Spiderman AU, so we shall see, the kleinsen group chat made me do it, ummm idk rating may change warnings may change have never written superhero anything b4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 16:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10994760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howboutinotdothis/pseuds/howboutinotdothis
Summary: The incredulous look Jared gives him in response seems to convey that Jared is not convinced that Evan just smashed his glasses back up his face to be a good boyfriend, which is true. Evan’s a little bit bitter that Jared ate the croissant Connor got him before he made it to the car. Okay, so, more than a little bit—Evan’s pretty bitter about it. He had a project due today in physics and a presentation on Othello in AP Lang, so Evan needed that croissant. That flaky, chocolate filled pastry was what he needed to get through his morning classes and this field trip in the afternoon, and Jared took that from him because Jared is an asshole. An asshole that he cares about, but an asshole all the same. And assholes deserve to have their glasses shoved up their face and their phones dropped on bus floors.





	The Adventures of Spider-Guy and His Dorky Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> ???????????
> 
> should i be starting another multichap fic?? no. am i going to anyways? yes.
> 
> comments/kudos/crit always welcome!
> 
> shout out to the kleinsen discord chat because i would not have been sucked down this rabbit hole but for u guys

The school bus is cramped and noisy, raucous laughter drowning out all sensible thought. The air is rich with axe body spray and that especially bad kind of body odor that comes from boys who haven’t quite grasped that showering is meant to be an everyday thing post-puberty, not a once a week if you’re lucky kind of deal.

Evan Hansen is sitting in the third row from the front on the left side, smushed up against the bus window because his boyfriend has decided that he’s entitled to more than his half of the bench. In front of him, Connor Murphy is lounging across an entire row by himself, feet propped up on the seat, editing a video on his laptop while listening to some music that just sounds like glass breaking and people screaming. Evan knows what his music sounds like because Connor plays it every morning and afternoon when they’re carpooling. Zoe could wrestle the AUX cord from her brother on occasion when she used to ride with them, but she’s taken to driving to school by herself in the convertible corvette her parents bought her when she got her license a few months back, leaving Evan and Jared to suffer with the cacophony of nonsensical noises her brother considers music.

In the row behind Evan sits Alana Beck, who is also taking up a whole row to herself, camera bag and backpack taking up the seat beside her. She’s currently scrolling through comments on the latest article she posted about some sewage project the city council is pushing through that would be horrible for some local breed of squirrel. Evan knows this because Alana has been dangling her cellphone in front of his face every other minute for the entirety of the bus trip so far, showing him a particularly intriguing response or a particularly stupid hate message.

“Look at this, Evan!” Alana shoves the phone back in front of his face, thumb hovering over a comment from some guy named Dave who looks to be about forty and is rocking the neck beard. “’Nobody gives a fuck about this shit, sweetie, stick to what you’re good at—now make me a sammich,’ I mean, can you _get_ any more prototypical misogynistic white straight male—like, hello, sir, are you aware that you’re a carbon copy of every other troll ever?” She makes a noise of disgust in the back of her throat before retracting her arm and furiously typing on her phone’s keyboard, presumably giving that prototypical guy a piece of her mind.

Evan takes the reprieve to glance over at Jared, who’s resting his head on his shoulder and watching a playthrough of some video game Evan’s never heard of, letting out an obnoxious snort or loud chortle every few seconds. He’s got his earbuds in and the volume is turned up so high that Evan can practically hear every word the guy is saying—which is basically just a string of curse words with the occasional “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, Arch” accompanied by loud guffaws. His glasses are sliding down his face, resting precariously on the tip of his nose, so Evan reaches over and shoves the frames back up, earning himself an offended cry from his boyfriend, who fumbles and drops his phone on the bus floor.

“The fuck, Evan?”

“Your glasses were falling off.”

The incredulous look Jared gives him in response seems to convey that Jared is not convinced that Evan just smashed his glasses back up his face to be a good boyfriend, which is true. Evan’s a little bit bitter that Jared ate the croissant Connor got him before he made it to the car. Okay, so, more than a little bit—Evan’s pretty bitter about it. He had a project due today in physics and a presentation on _Othello_ in AP Lang, so Evan needed that croissant. That flaky, chocolate filled pastry was what he needed to get through his morning classes and this field trip in the afternoon, and Jared took that from him because Jared is an asshole. An asshole that he cares about, but an asshole all the same. And assholes deserve to have their glasses shoved up their face and their phones dropped on bus floors.

Still, Evan feels guilty, discomfort stirring in his stomach as Jared retrieves his iPhone from the floor and runs his hand over the screen, looking for cracks. The phone itself seems to be okay but part of Jared’s phone case snapped off and skittered to who knows where on the bus floor. Granted, it’s a Pepe the Frog phone case that makes Evan embarrassed to be seen with Jared, but it was still Jared’s favorite phone case. “S-sorry.” He mumbles, cheeks heating up as Jared levels him with a glare.

“You’re lucky I have three more of these at home.” Jared grumbles, dumping his now broken phone case into the jumbled mess that is the main pocket of his backpack. Then, all is apparently forgiven because Jared is cuddling back up against Evan’s arm, resting his head on Evan’s shoulder. “And I’m not sorry about eating your croissant—ow, fuck!”

Evan lets go of the skin on Jared’s wrist that he pinched between his nails. Before Jared can launch into complaining about Evan—and probably say something along the lines of “you’re being homophobic, Evan, you’re interrupting my meme time”—the school bus comes to a screeching halt in front of a building that looks like one of those ugly buildings everyone hales as a miracle of modern architecture when it really looks like something Evan built with his Legos when he was three.

A harried science teacher calls for order from the front of the bus, blathering on about being on their best behavior and sticking with the group and not embarrassing the entire school in front of rich people who could buy them new computers. The small man eventually steps aside, setting them loose on the company that graciously offered to host the AP Chemistry class, and Jared hops up from his seat, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and hitting Evan in the face with it. That’s Jared—he always has to have the last word, or action, in this case, in their little spats. Evan has the urge to jab him in the side or gently shove him into Connor because he doesn’t particularly like having to be the bigger person in the relationship, but he quells that feeling and follows his boyfriend off the bus, only stepping on the back of his shoe and tripping him up accidentally.

Alana is at the front of the group already, phone out with Snapchat open, ready to post a revealing video or picture the moment she catches a whiff of something fishy in the company. Connor is hanging at the back of the pack, headphones still covering his ears. Evan and Jared are near the middle of the group, standing close enough together that their arms are touching, but neither of them are in the mood to do much more than that. Evan doesn’t particularly like PDA and Jared only ever tries to act lovey dovey when Connor’s in earshot because it annoys the hell out of Connor. Honestly, at school they pretty much just act like good friends. Good friends who “bicker like an old married couple,” according to Zoe. Good friends who just happen to make out under the bleachers on occasion. Good friends who send each other carnations on Valentine’s Day. Good friends who “out gay the BGSA,” according to Connor.

So, yeah. They’re a pretty fly-under-the-radar kind of couple.

Not.

Evan allows an exception to his no PDA thing as the crowd of students press forward around him, taking Jared’s hand in his and squeezing it tight when a boy he vaguely recognizes as a football player knocks into him, continuing on without even apologizing. Jared acts as if he doesn’t even notice his boyfriend clinging to his hand for dear life, whispering about how ridiculous the woman giving the tour looks. “I mean, _come on_ , let the beehive hairdos stay in the 60s where they belong, you know? And, Jesus, lady, if you don’t want kids touching stuff, don’t tell them _not_ to touch it. When in the history of the universe has a teenager ever done what they were told to do? You know, a normal teenager. Not you, Mr. I Do Whatever My Mom Asks.” Evan manages to roll his eyes at Jared, still holding tight to his boyfriend’s hand as they walk through the entrance and into the company’s vast waiting room. His breathing evens out—Evan didn’t even realize he was breathing funny—and his heart stops hammering in his chest as if he just ran a marathon. Evan’s going to be fine. The field trip won’t last more than two hours and then he’ll be back on the bus, back to school, back to Connor’s car, back home. No more than four hours and he’ll be at his house, in his pajamas, heating up a Lean Cuisine pizza and waiting for his mom to get home and tell him good night before she heads off to class. Evan can survive four hours.

They pass through the security checkpoint with minimal issues and then they’re split up into a few groups to take elevators up to the R&D floor. Evan and Jared hang back with Connor so they can get an elevator that isn’t jam packed with students because Evan can survive four hours of human interaction as long as he doesn’t have to become more intimately acquainted with his classmates than he has ever wanted to be and elevator rides lend themselves to Evan being pressed up against a stranger’s side or being smushed in the back corner and feeling like the elevator is about to plummet to the bottom of the shaft and crumple in on itself like a tin can.

They catch the last one up, which gives them elbow room at least, although there are still more people on than Evan is strictly comfortable with. Connor sends him a questioning look from his spot in the corner and Evan offers him a shaky smile, hopefully conveying that he’s okay and that he’s not going to have an anxiety attack. At least, not right this minute.

The elevator doors slide open and Jared drags him out, pulling him to the side of the group so that they can see the R&D floor with its high tech equipment and jittery scientists rushing about with tablets under their arms and grimaces on their faces, view unencumbered by their classmates’ heads. Alana is standing at the frontline, phone in hand, listening intently to something the tour guide is saying.

Then Larry Murphy appears seemingly out of thing air and Evan suddenly understands why Connor has been especially close lipped since they left school. Not that Connor’s a Chatty Cathy on the best of days, but usually he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to annoy the hell out of Jared for the half hour ride over here.

He’s imposing in a gray suit with a blindingly white Oxford underneath his blazer, a vibrant red tie dotted with gold knotted around his neck. His dress shoes are shining like they were just polished a moment ago. His lips are pulled into a thin, insincere smile, eyes sweeping over the crowd of students and apparently finding them lacking if the way his mouth slips into a grimace for a mere second before returning to its disingenuous smile is any indication. “Welcome to Nitro Tech. My name is Larry Murphy and this,” Larry gestures behind him to an uneasy-looking young man with oversized glasses and a too-tight sweater vest, “is Earl, head of research and development. He’ll be taking you around the floor today and showing you some of our new projects. I’d love to stay and help with your tour, but I have a meeting I have to get to. If you need anything or have any questions, Earl will be happy to help.” Larry’s hand comes down sharply on Earl’s shoulder, making the young man flinch. Larry speaks with the easy confidence of a man in his prime, self-assured and confident of his position of the company, not even bothering to tell the kids what exactly that position is. Connor’s mentioned his father ended up taking a job as a CEO of some huge tech company—which Evan thought was kind of weird, because being a hotshot defense attorney doesn’t seem like it would translate to being a CEO, but what does he know about business—and that’s why they moved here two years ago, but Evan never made the connection that Connor’s dad worked at _Nitro Tech_. Nitro Tech, the company Alana has been trying to bust for years for being ethically ambiguous with some of the ways they’ve gotten ahead in the industry; Nitro Tech, the company Zoe badmouths at every opportunity, claiming that they’re a corporate giant that needs to be taken down before they destroy all their competitors; Nitro Tech, the company that provides free tech to the surrounding public schools, to the public libraries, to the public _playgrounds_.

Larry smiles grimly at Connor, tapping his ear inconspicuously. Connor slides off his headphones slowly, dropping them in his messenger bag while glaring at his father. Larry’s eyes flicker over Jared and Evan—settling on their intertwined hands for a second too long—and Alana, offering them bland smiles. Larry Murphy has always seemed like a fine man when Evan’s been over at the Murphy house, but this seems like a completely different person. He’s slick and uncaring and he gives Evan a bad feeling deep in his chest, urging him to turn around and flee with his tail between his legs.

Connor’s father leaves as suddenly as he arrived and the tour guide waves them along, acting as if the CEO didn’t just drop by to greet them. Earl putters along beside her, interjecting a fact here or there, looking incredibly put out to be showing around a bunch of high schoolers.

“Evan, look,” Jared distracts Evan from the longwinded answer Earl is giving to one of Alana’s probing questions, gesturing with his free hand at a tank they’re standing right by. “That spider looks _crazy_!”

And the spider does look crazy. It’s skittering around the tank, acting as aggressively as Evan’s ever seen a spider act, glittering purple in the light of the lamp positioned above the tank. It’s bigger than any spider Evan’s seen in person before, more reminiscent of a tarantula than a house spider, and its beady black eyes seem to stare into Evan’s very soul.

Of course, that’s Evan’s paranoia talking. The spider is probably just looking at Evan because he’s the nearest human, not because he can see Evan’s deepest, darkest secrets. Probably. Definitely.

Jared’s breath is warm and moist against Evan’s cheek, “dare you to touch it.”

Evan jerks away from his boyfriend, finally letting go of his hand, gaze darting around to make sure no one overheard Jared’s ludicrous suggestion. The rest of the group is at a different work station, listening to Earl talk about something stimulating like microchips or nanotubes. Something that makes more sense to be in a tech company than a frightening spider in a tank.

Evan shifts uneasily. “The lady said—”

“The lady said what all adults say about cool things. It’s just a spider, Ev. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, I don’t know, it could bite me and I could die. Just off the top of my head.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. They wouldn’t have something deadly on an open floor that they show off to high school students.” Jared grabs Evan’s arm and pulls him closer to the tank, practically shoving Evan’s face against the thick glass. “Come on, man, it looks cool as fuck! Don’t you want to be able to say you touched a cool as fuck spider?”

“No, not particularly.”

Jared ignores him, sliding the top of the tank aside, opening a gap that can’t be more than an inch or two. “Jared!” Evan hisses, reaching over to pull the cover back over the tank so they can get back to the group and leave the terrifying spider in peace.

Of course, because Evan is Evan and nothing can go right for him, Evan’s hand slips off the lid when Jared jerks it away from him and slides into the tank, fingers brushing against the spider’s back.

The spider promptly turns around and sinks its pincers into Evan’s flesh.

He lets out a squeak that’s more fear than pain, jerking his hand back and bringing the spider along with it. The spider flies off his hand, disappearing into the vast unknown of the research and development floor, and Jared is just staring at him with an expression that says “oh fuck” more clearly than actually saying “oh fuck” would.

Oh fuck is right.

**Author's Note:**

> if u think i should continue pls tell me because i am but a mere squid who needs validation


End file.
